


This Isn't Absolution

by altsunthinkable



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-27
Updated: 2011-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:46:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altsunthinkable/pseuds/altsunthinkable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire comes to ask Brian for a big favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Isn't Absolution

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hurt/Comfort Challenge on Livejournal.
> 
> Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and its characters belong to Showtime and Cowlip. This was written for fun and no profit is being made from it.

Brian leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, granting himself a brief moment of satisfaction. The boards were finally right, the copy was brilliant, and everything was set for tomorrow morning’s presentation to the Pennsylvania Wine Association. It was a little tamer than Brian might normally like and not necessarily a big account when it came to dollar signs. But with more than 90 vineyards in the state and dozens of small events and festivals to promote throughout each year, Brian knew they could become an important client that would get Kinnetik many high end contacts while only requiring a relatively small amount of manpower to handle the actual account.

“Brian?” Cynthia’s voice cut into Brian’s thoughts. He sat up and opened his eyes. That was enough enjoyment of one task satisfactorily completed. It was time to get back to work.

“What?” He asked, sparing her only a brief glance before setting the Wine Association boards aside and reaching for the day’s next item of business.

“There’s someone here to see you…”

“I don’t have any appointments today, Cynthia. And I don’t have time for anything that isn’t scheduled. So unless it’s – ”

“It’s your sister,” she cut him off.

“What the fuck does she want?” Brian asked sharply. He hadn’t seen or heard from Claire in more than 6 years. Not since that little hell spawn of hers had tried to have him arrested and she’d believed him.

“I don’t know,” Cynthia replied, rolling her eyes. So much for her boss’s unusually good mood that day. “She says it’s important.”

“Everything with that bitch is important,” Brian grumbled under his breath.

Cynthia waited while Brian perused the proposed graphic layouts for the new Eyeconics ads. When it became clear he wasn’t going to say anything more she hazarded another try. “Brian? What should I tell her?”

He made an impatient noise of disgust and threw the layout aside. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. “Send her in.”

She nodded and left his office. The door had barely shut behind her before it opened again and Claire walked in. She cautiously made her way over to his desk and stood in front of it, waiting for Brian to look up from the stack of paperwork Ted had provided that needed his signatures by the end of the day. Brian signed two pay increases and one vacation request before finally setting his pen down and looking up.

“What?”

“Brian… I need to talk to you,” Claire began.

“Then talk, Claire. I’m busy.”

“I know. I’ve been trying to track you down for a couple of weeks. I’ve gone by your loft several times but you’re never there.”

“That would be because I don’t live there anymore,” Brian replied impatiently. Ever since Justin had returned home from New York last year, he and Brian had been living in the house Brian had purchased for them years before. Brian was slowly starting to get used to it. But he did keep the loft for the occasional night when he was too tired to make the drive out to the country after working late or for when he and Justin absolutely couldn’t wait half an hour after leaving Babylon to fuck in the comfort of one of their own beds.

“You don’t? Oh. I didn’t know you’d moved.” Claire looked a bit taken aback.

“Yeah, well, in case you didn’t notice, you don’t know much about my life these days,” Brian told her. As if she ever had.

“I know,” she said, sounding almost apologetic. “I didn’t even know you’d started your own agency until I finally asked Mom if she knew how to get ahold of you.”

“Why didn’t you do that to begin with?” Was she ever going to get to the fucking point?

“She… she doesn’t talk about you much anymore,” Claire hedged.

“I’ll bet.” He hadn’t seen Joan in years either. Not since that day he’d practically chased her out of his agency, screaming after her that he’d rather go to hell than have to endure heaven with her. Brian grimaced slightly at the memory. That hadn’t been one of his finer moments, losing it like that in front of his entire staff. But considering everything he’d been through in the previous month, Brian figured he had probably been entitled. And it had served his purpose. His life had been going along just fine without the annoyance of dealing with his pathetic, fucked up excuse for a family these past few years.

All good things…

“Claire, I already said I’m busy, so would you just ask me for whatever it is you’ve come to ask me for? How much?”

Claire stepped back as though in shock. “Brian, I didn’t come to ask you for money.”

Brian found it amusing that she dared to look offended, like it hadn’t happened more than a dozen times before. Like father, like daughter. At least Joanie had Jack’s pension and social security so all she ever came to him for was to try to save his soul. Christ…

“Well if you need a babysitter, you’re on your own.”

Claire looked momentarily stricken but recovered quickly. “They hardly need babysitters anymore, Brian. They’re 15 and 18.”

Brian raised his eyebrows, making his growing impatience clear.

Claire sat down in a chair on the other side of his desk. “But… it is about John.”

He waited for her to continue but it became clear she wasn’t going to. If he ever wanted to get back to work this afternoon, he was going to have to play along. “What about him?”

“He’s… sick. He’s in kidney failure, actually. On dialysis. He has been for almost 2 years.”

Brian paused in mid reach for his coffee cup. “Oh.”

“They think when he had strep throat when he was 16 that it affected his kidneys. Originally they said it should have been treatable. But he turned out to be one of the few that it caused chronic kidney problems for until he went into complete kidney failure.”

Brian rubbed his temples. He could feel a bitch of a headache coming on. “And why are you telling me this? You said you didn’t come for money.”

“I didn’t,” she insisted. “My health insurance has been covering most of it and I’ve taken on a second, part-time job to cover the rest. We’re making ends meet. Barely.”

“So you’re here because…” Brian made no effort to hide his irritation. She needed to just fucking spit it out already.

“Because John needs a kidney transplant. He’s been doing all right on dialysis but that’s no way for a kid to live, Brian. He’s only 18 and he can’t do anything normal 18-year-olds do! He can’t play sports because he’s on blood thinners. He can’t go out for pizza or eat popcorn at the movies or even drink a soda because every single thing he eats and drinks has to be measured and accounted for. He can’t go away to college because now we don’t have the money and he has to spend 12 hours a week hooked up to that damned machine.” She said all this very fast, as though once it started coming out she couldn’t stop.

“That’s all very sad, Claire, but what the fuck do you expect me to do about it?” Brian asked. Only he had a sinking feeling he knew what was coming. But even his cunt of a sister couldn’t be that delusional, that out of touch with reality, to ask what he dreaded was going to come out of her mouth next.

“I’m not eligible to donate. My blood pressure’s too high, they said. And Peter’s too young. Even though he’s a sibling, the program at University of Pittsburgh won’t even consider it until he’s 18. Mom’s in too poor of health to donate. And the wait for a cadaver kidney can be up to ten years.”

“So you want _me_ to give your son one of my kidneys? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Brian pushed himself out of his chair and started pacing. This was fucking unbelievable. “What about his father? Where the fuck is he?”

“We don’t know,” Claire said quietly. “We haven’t heard from him since a year before John got sick.”

“What a wonderful world,” Brian smirked, the expression devoid of any real amusement. “So you thought you’d ask me.”

“I didn’t know where else to turn. I know you’re still angry about what John did. And you have a right to be. But it was a long time ago. And – ”

“I can’t,” he cut her off before she could carry on to how they were still _family_ , still of the same blood, and he would have to be physically sick. That hadn’t meant shit to her when she was all too eager to believe that he had molested her son.

“Brian…”

“Even if I would consider it, and I can’t imagine why in your wildest imaginings you figured I ever would… I couldn’t anyway.”

“Why not?” Claire asked, clearly gearing up to argue whatever Brian was about to say next.

“Two reasons. One: I’m a fag. They won’t even let us donate blood because all of us perverts must have HIV. I doubt they’d touch my kidney with a 20 foot pole. And two: I had cancer.”

“You… what?” Claire gasped.

“Mom didn’t tell you? No, I guess she wouldn’t since she considers it my punishment by God for being gay. I don’t suppose that is something she would go around telling the world about.”

“No, Mom didn’t tell me!” Claire exclaimed, jumping up out of her seat and walking over to where Brian stood. “When was this? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Brilliant. Dazzling.” He flashed her a huge, fake smile.

“I’m serious, Brian. Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it was none of your fucking business, Claire! Anyway, it was five years ago. It’s over and done with. I’m fine.” Brian stalked back to his desk and sat down. He grabbed his coffee cup and took a swig then made a face. It was hours old and cold.

“I… I’m glad… that you’re okay,” Claire said softly, sitting back down opposite of Brian. “I just wish you would have told me. I know we’re not close, but you’re still my little brother.”

“You could have thought of that before you went to the police.”

Claire looked down at where her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, refusing to meet Brian’s stony gaze.

“If you’ve been cancer free for five years, maybe they’d still consider you. I don’t know. And as for HIV… you don’t have it, do you?”

“No. I don’t have HIV,” Brian snorted in disgust.

“I really don’t know what their criteria are for who is allowed to donate. But would you at least go and talk to this doctor? Check into it?” Claire asked, holding out a business card. Brian made no move to take it from her.

“Why should I? Why should I even consider giving up an internal organ for that little shit after what he tried to do to me?”

Claire frowned. “He was just a kid, Brian. I know that’s not an excuse. What he did was awful and the way Mom and I reacted was worse. And if you can never forgive us, I understand. But please don’t take it out on John now.”

Brian stared at her, unblinking.

Realizing she wasn’t going to get any further reaction, Claire sighed. “Just think about it? Please?” She set the card down on top of the papers on Brian’s desk and turned to leave. At the door to his office she paused and looked back.

“Do you really think somebody should be judged for life by something they did when they were 12 years old?” Shaking her head, she walked out the door.

 

  
************   


 

Justin was putting the finishing touches on a canvas he’d been picking away at for almost two weeks. It was unusual that it had taken him so long to finish this painting. Normally he would get into a groove on a piece, the ideas and paint would flow easily, and within a day or two it would be completed. But not this one. The idea had appealed to Justin when he planned it out. But in transferring what was in his mind onto the canvas, nothing had gone smoothly. He’d never found that groove. And so he’d picked away at it, painting a little bit at a time, adding a detail here, a few brush strokes there, throughout several days. Then he hadn’t touched it for three in a row. He’d gone back to it and played around with it for a few more then finally yesterday he had decided he was sick of seeing it sitting there in his studio, unfinished and taking up space. So he pushed himself through the rest of the process. It was done now, though Justin had no idea if he even liked it, let alone if it was any good. Though if the right person came to a show, generally whether Justin thought a piece was good was irrelevant. He never felt precisely right about having a canvas he didn’t really care for hung in a show, but they almost inevitably sold. And what would he do with it otherwise? It certainly wasn’t one he was going to keep.

Feeling relieved that the thing was finally finished and would be out of his sight soon enough, Justin turned to clean out his brushes. But he felt unsettled, the way he always did when something he had envisioned didn’t come out just the way he wanted. It was frustrating. He sighed and rolled his shoulders, trying to release some of the tension in the muscles of his arms and upper back. Brian would be home in about an hour and, as is was Tuesday, he would probably be bringing Thai for dinner. Justin hadn’t pointed out that Brian was falling into a routine as to which nights he brought what kind of takeout home because he knew to do so would only irritate Brian and most likely cause him to do something annoying to act out against this sign of domesticity. Their lives did _not_ have a routine.

Justin smiled to himself at the thought but then the smile faded when he heard the garage door opening. Brian was early. That wasn’t unheard of but it was unusual. Brian rarely made it home before 8 most weeknights and 9 or 10 wasn’t unusual if they had a presentation coming up that wasn’t going well. Justin had talked to Brian early in the afternoon and he’d said things were falling into place for the Wine Association pitch that was scheduled for tomorrow but he’d also made it clear he had a full schedule for the day. So Justin doubted this was one of Brian’s “The world won’t end if I leave now because I’m really horny and need to fuck my partner” early evenings.

Setting his brushes out to dry, Justin turned to the task of scrubbing the paint off himself next. He heard the door from the garage to the hall near the kitchen slam and rolled his eyes. Great. Brian was pissed. Well, whatever it was, Justin could probably blow it out of him if all else failed. He just hoped he hadn’t been too mad to stop and pick up dinner.

He heard Brian go into the kitchen (good, he was probably setting food on the counter) and then walk down the hall. He slowed as he passed the door of the studio, but he didn’t come in. He continued up the stairs as Justin rubbed at one particularly stubborn spot of deep red paint by his wrist. Sighing, Justin decided a shower was probably a good idea for him as well.

When he stepped into the steam-filled shower enclosure, Brian was standing with his head back and his eyes closed, letting the hot water pour over him. He didn’t open his eyes when Justin gently touched his back.

“Hey,” Justin said, just loud enough to be heard over the water. Brian didn’t reply but he leaned back slightly into Justin’s touch. Feeling the tension in his muscles, Justin reached for the soap and lathered his hands before returning them to Brian’s back. He started rubbing the base of his neck, his upper back and shoulders, kneading the muscles there before working lower and pressing firmly on Brian’s lower back, encouraging the muscles to relax. After a few minutes Brian let out low moan and sighed, allowing some of the physical tension to drain away. Justin turned Brian under the water then to rinse away the soap. He wished he could give Brian a longer massage, but he’d worked on finishing details of the painting for hours and his hand wasn’t really up to much more. But it didn’t really matter. Giving Brian a backrub was a far less effective way of getting Brian to relax than what Justin had planned next.

Brian still had his head back and his eyes closed, but some of the tension had left his features. He wasn’t frowning anymore and his brow had smoothed out so Justin didn’t disturb him by pulling his head down for a kiss. Instead, he began by kissing Brian’s chest. Soft and gentle at first and then increasing the pressure of his mouth and adding more tongue. He breathed hot, moist air over Brian’s nipples, then licked at them before putting his mouth over them one at a time and sucking hard. Brian groaned at that and put his hands on Justin’s hips and pushed downwards. Taking the hint that Brian wasn’t in the mood to wait, Justin sunk to his knees and took Brian’s cock in his hand. Stroking lightly a couple of times, he raised his other hand to cradle Brian’s balls, gently rolling them with his fingers as the thumb of the hand on his shaft brushed over the head, causing Brian’s breath to hitch.

“Justin,” he breathed, sinking his hands into his partner’s hair and urging his head towards his dick.

Justin happily opened his mouth and took Brian deep in one smooth swallow. Brian grunted in surprise at the feel of Justin’s lips and tongue and throat suddenly enveloping the length of his dick. He grabbed his hair tighter, pulling a little as he started to move his hips. Justin relaxed his throat and allowed Brian to just let go and fuck his face. It didn’t take long before he was panting, his breath coming in short gasps and small noises of pleasure. Justin moved the hand playing with Brian’s balls back, searching with his fingers for that sensitive spot behind them and pressing against it as his other arm wrapped about Brian’s hips to hold him in place. Brian made a sound of protest at his hips being stilled but then Justin swallowed around him twice and he was gone, shooting hard down the back of his throat as Justin made his own noise of contentment as he swallowed Brian’s come.

After his softening dick slipped from between Justin’s lips, Brian opened his eyes and pulled Justin up, wrapping his arms around him. Justin put his hand on Brian’s neck and gently guided his head down for a kiss. Brian hesitated for a moment before closing his eyes and kissing Justin softly. Then he pulled away and opened the shower door and stepped out, closing it behind him.

Justin scowled. If a back rub and a blowjob hadn’t done the trick, Brian wasn’t just stressed about work. Something else was bothering him and there was no telling when Justin would find out what it was. It could be tonight, tomorrow, next week, next month, hell… even next year wasn’t out of the question. He always did find out in the end, but the waiting was enough to drive him insane. He knew better than to ask though. Justin doubted there were many more offensive combinations of words to Brian Kinney than “What’s wrong?” or “Do you want to talk about it?”

Once he finished ridding himself of all visible traces of paint, Justin shut off the shower. He dried himself off quickly and threw on some sweats and a t-shirt before heading down to the kitchen. Brian had already helped himself to the Thai food and the cartons were spread out all over the counter. Justin loaded up his own plate and took it into the media room where he knew he’d find Brian on the sofa, watching television as he ate. On nights when Brian was in a better mood, he and Justin would often playfully fight over control of the remote until Justin either emerged victorious or Brian just gave up because he didn’t really watch enough TV to care what was on anyway. But tonight Justin had a feeling any playful argument would quickly turn less so and he didn’t even start. Once Brian had finished eating and polished off his beer, he went over to the bar and poured himself a glass of scotch and took that with him to the computer. Justin picked at his food for a while longer before getting up and taking both of their plates and empty beer bottles back into the kitchen. He loaded the dishwasher and put the leftovers in the fridge, wiped down the counters and sighed. He toyed with the idea of going back into the studio and working on the next issue of Rage, but his hand was tired and he knew he’d just end up frustrated when it gave out on him.

He walked back into the media room and flopped down on the sofa. He picked up the remote and started channel surfing.

“So, what did you do today?” Brian asked him, not looking up from the computer screen.

“I finally finished that painting,” Justin told him, knowing Brian would probably be happy he didn’t have to hear anymore about Justin’s frustrations with it.

“Really? That’s great,” he replied, sounding surprised.

“Yeah. I think it might be shit, but it’ll still probably sell.”

Brian chuckled and clicked the mouse. He learned closer to the computer screen, staring intently at whatever was on it.

“What are you doing?” Justin asked, getting up off the sofa and walking up behind Brian at his desk. He liked to look at what Brian was working on when he worked from home. Sometimes he could even make a suggestion or two which probably saved Kinnetik’s art department at least partially from Brian’s wrath on occasion.

Justin put his hands on Brian’s shoulders and felt them immediately tense. “What? Trouble at the office, dear?”

“I wish,” Brian sighed quietly.

“What are you looking at?” Justin asked, leaning over Brian’s shoulder to get a better look at the screen. It clearly wasn’t an ad layout.

“This,” Brian huffed, scrolling back up to the top of the web page and then leaning back to let Justin see.

 _Living Donors Online_ the title of the page read. Then underneath it were several links. _Why living kidney donation? –  The tap on the shoulder (being asked to donate). – Now… about your health (donor evaluation). – The gift (the surgical process) – Afterwards… _

“Okay….” Justin said slowly, turning to look at Brian and raising his eyebrows questioningly. “And you are looking at information on kidney donation because…”

“I’m looking for something that will tell me I can’t be a donor. You would think having cancer would have been good for something at least.”

“Who needs a kidney transplant?” Justin asked, startled.

“My _nephew_ , John.”

“The same one that tried to claim you molested him.” Justin stood up straight and stared down at Brian in shock.

“The very same,” Brian leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms.

“Why should you be his donor? What about your sister? Or his brother? Or his father?” Justin knew his voice was rising, but he couldn’t believe the astonishing, breathtaking gall of Brian’s family to ask him to _donate an organ_ after everything they had put him through over the years.

“Claire has high blood pressure. Peter’s too young. And Claire’s ex apparently skipped out several years ago,” Brian recited, sounding bored. But Justin knew better than to believe outward appearances. That fact that Brian was even looking up information online was throwing Justin for a loop.

“But still, that’s no reason to ask _you_!” Justin exclaimed. “After what he did! He tried to have you sent to prison! And when I pointed that out to him he said good. That you could get raped by a gang of black guys. He’s one messed up kid.”

Brian’s eyebrows shot up at hearing Justin relate John’s comment to him. That was the first he’d heard of it and he felt the dull anger and resentment inside him flare to life again. That little bastard.

“Well, he’s not a kid anymore. He’s 18 and apparently he’s been in kidney failure for two years. He’s on dialysis and doing okay but Claire says they want to get him a transplant so he can lead a normal life again.”

Justin’s took a deep breath and let it out. “Well, that’s understandable. But it doesn’t have to be you. That they would even ask is utter bullshit!”

Brian nodded and turned back to the screen.

“Brian, don’t tell me you’re thinking about doing this,” Justin said, nudging the computer chair with his knee so Brian was turned facing towards him slightly.

“Like I said, I’m looking for something that will disqualify me because I’ve had cancer. Or because I’m fag. Either one is fine by me.” Brian was meeting his eyes but Justin could see the closed expression behind them.

“If you don’t want to do it, all you have to do is say no,” Justin told him, putting his hand on Brian’s shoulder. “You’re allowed to say no, Brian. That’s a huge thing to ask of anyone, even if you’re really close to them.”

Brian stared at him for another moment then turned back to the computer screen. Justin sighed and stepped back behind the chair, resting his hands on the back of it so he could read over Brian’s shoulder. It was probably irritating Brian, but at the moment Justin didn’t really care. This was crazy. Brian’s family hated him. They’d treated him like shit his entire life. The only times they ever wanted anything to do with him were when they needed something from him. Usually it was money which was Brian’s to do with as he pleased. Justin may not have liked it when Brian would give Claire money all those years ago, and he was sure it had happened more than the couple of times he knew about, but it was only money. This was different.

Justin knew why Brian was doing this, or at least considering doing this, or probably actually tearing himself up over the fact that he _didn’t_ want to do this. No matter how many times his family threw shit at him, no matter how many times they kicked him when he was down and spat in his face, he always took it. Because somewhere underneath that sorry’s bullshit, no apologies, no regrets, you’re the only one you need exterior, Brian wanted his family to love him, just like anybody else.

But this was not the way.

Brian clicked on the link about donor health evaluation and Justin scanned the page.

 _Blood and tissue compatibility… Your general health… chest x-ray, EKG, blood tests, urine tests… Health of your kidneys… intravenous pyelography test… renal arteriogram… CT angiography…Other assessments… social worker or psychiatric evaluation… time off work for testing, surgery, and recovery…_

Brian clicked the back button on the browser and entered the page on being asked to donate. Justin slipped his hands down from the back of the chair to rest on Brian’s shoulders and was silently grateful when he didn’t tense up again. They were partners. It was Brian’s body but damned if Justin wasn’t going to have a say in this. They continued to read.

 _Living donation involves significant invasive medical procedures. Make sure you are ready to donate… ‘I understand the process including the risks involved… including the possibility that the donation may not be successful and that I may be harmed in the process… I am in great physical shape to withstand major surgery… I have a healthy organ to donate, and I need to continue to live with one kidney… I have the financial resources to tide me over while I am being tested, in the hospital for surgery, and away from work while I recover…. I have insurance protection in the event I die or am permanently disabled by the donation… I am driven to donate by all the right motives...’_

No way was Brian doing this. No fucking way.

“Brian,” Justin said quietly, squeezing his shoulders lightly. Brian clicked again and another page loaded.

 _Open nephrectomy… an incision of several inches – as long as 10 inches – from the left side along the bottom of the lower rib to the midriff… alternative open nephrectomy procedure that begins the incision further on the back along the side to the front (a flank incision), but a portion of the rib may have to be removed… regardless of the alternative, the incision requires cutting through three layers of muscle... once access to the kidney is gained, the arteries and ureter are clamped off... you may receive a blood transfusion during the operation, but such transfusions are rare…_

 _Laparoscopic nephrectomy… procedure uses a laparoscope… technique involves making several small incisions of a couple inches each in your abdomen, to allow insertion of a laparoscope and other instruments... camera and instruments are used to cut the kidney away from surrounding tissue after clamping off the arteries and ureter... kidney is removed through an incision below your belly button..._

 _Risks to the donor during and after surgery… small and manageable, but include… pain… infection… pneumonia… blood clots… reaction to anesthesia… death… accepted mortality risk of 0.03% (three deaths per 10,000 procedures)… risk of complication ranges from 2-16% depending on severity… major complications occur at rate of 2-6%... survey of 10,828 donors from 2001 to 2003… two deaths… one persistent vegetative state.. re-operation due to hernia, bleeding, bowel obstruction, and bowel injury: 66… serious complications not requiring re-operation: 65.. readmission rate: 2.2%... transfusion rate 3.4%..._

Justin swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “Brian,” he tried again.

Brian made a quiet sound to indicate he was at least half-listening.

“Brian, look at me, please,” Justin said firmly, pulling on the chair to try to turn it around so Brian was facing him. Brian looked at the screen for a few more seconds before turning around to see what Justin wanted.

“What?”

Justin met his gaze steadily. “I don’t want you to do this. Donating a kidney is a wonderful thing to do, a very selfless thing to do, for somebody that you love. But I don’t want to see you take those risks for your nephew. If it was someone else, like Michael or Lindsay, it would be different. But do you think you would have ever heard from him or Claire again if he didn’t need a transplant? And what if someday Michael or Lindsay or Gus or even I needed a kidney and you couldn’t help us because you’d already donated to John? He’s not dying, Brian. He’s doing okay on dialysis and in a few years his brother will be old enough do donate for him if he chooses to. You don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to do this.”

Brian looked at him evenly for a moment, then his expression softened and he stood up and pulled Justin into his arms. He dropped a kiss on the top of Justin’s head and one of his hands found its way into his hair, running through the soft strands a few times before he released him.

“It’s getting late and I slept for shit last night. Shutdown the computer before you come up,” he said, kissing Justin softly on the lips before turning and heading out of the room.

Justin looked at the clock. It was 9:08.

 

  
************   


 

Brian sighed and shifted in the uncomfortable chair in the waiting room for the twenty-second time. He got that surgeons were busy but so was he. He just wanted to meet with this doctor, find out he wasn’t a suitable candidate to donate his kidney to John (whether it was because he fucked guys or because he only had one ball left, he really didn’t care), and then he could walk away from this whole situation. No apologies, no regrets.

Yeah… right.

“Mr. Kinney? Sorry to keep you waiting, it just doesn’t stop around here.” The man who approached Brian from down the hallway that lead toward the rest of the hospital instead of the office area in this corner of the building smiled widely as he extended his hand. He was in his mid-forties it appeared, in good shape, with slightly graying hair and an open, expressive face. Not exactly what Brian had expected from a surgeon at one of the top transplant centers in the country. “I’m Dr. Lovel.”

Brian stood and shook the proffered hand.

Once they were seated in Dr. Lovel’s office, the doctor got right down to business. “I understand you’re interested in donating a kidney to your nephew John. Is that correct?”

“I’m looking into the possibility,” Brian replied.

“There certainly is a lot to consider in deciding to become a kidney donor,” Dr. Lovel agreed, opening a chart on his desk and picking up a pen. “Why don’t we start with the basics? Once we get past the initial stages of discussion, there will be a lot of tests performed by various specialists on our transplant team to help determine if you are a good candidate for donation. But I like to meet all our potential donors initially and get their basic medical history myself. So first off… any major health problems I should know about?”

“I had cancer 5 years ago.”

The doctor blinked in surprise. “Okay. Well, that’s certainly a biggie. Would you mind telling me more about your diagnosis and treatment protocol?”

“Testicular cancer. Stage I seminoma. Orchiectomy followed by 20 radiation treatments over a 4 week span,” Brian rattled off like it didn’t mean a thing. Not a single thing. Over. In the past. Done with.

“Any signs of recurrence?” Dr. Lovel asked, writing down everything Brian had just told him.

“No.”

“Are you still under the care of your oncologist?”

“No. After my five year follow-up he said he didn’t need to see me again.”

“Are you considered cured?”

“That’s what he said,” Brian shrugged. He and Justin had taken a trip shortly afterwards. Justin had still never been to Ibiza and Brian decided it had been time to finally change that. Brian quickly turned his mind away from thoughts of that vacation as his cock twitched in his pants at the memories it invoked.

“Well, while the history of cancer is concerning, given the early stage of your disease at diagnosis, the length of time since your diagnosis and treatment with no signs of recurrence, and that you have been released from your oncologist’s care, it doesn’t necessarily rule you out as a potential donor for your nephew. John would of course need to be told about your medical history so he can make his own informed decision about whether to proceed with the transplant if all pre-operative tests come back clear.”

Brian nodded. So losing a ball didn’t even get him out of this nightmare. Just fucking beautiful. And it turned out being gay didn’t either, necessarily, since he had to admit when asked that he and Justin had been in a mutually monogamous relationship for the last two years. Of course Dr. Lovel made the expected comments about testing him for HIV now and informing John of the potential risks. Then he suggested they would most likely put off the procedure for 6 months during which Brian would be asked to abstain and then be tested again prior to the surgery. Brian nearly laughed out loud at that but managed to turn it into a cough and made no further comment. As if John would even want his kidney when he was told all that.

The rest of Brian’s medical history was less remarkable. Yes, he smoked. Yes, he drank moderately to heavily at times. Yes, he occasionally used recreational drugs. No, never intravenously. Yes, he worked out several times a week.

When they were through Dr. Lovel shook Brian’s hand and assured him there was seldom such a thing as the perfect donor candidate and that they could certainly look at the concerning things in Brian’s medical history closely with pre-operative testing if Brian decided he wanted to proceed. He then directed him to the fourth floor to a scheduled meeting with one of the transplant program’s psychiatrists.

Dr. Rowley turned out to be a women in her late fifties with short gray hair and knowing eyes. Brian decided pretty quickly that Rage’s powers of mind control probably weren’t going to be of much help here and somehow found that thought strangely disconcerting. Probably because if this shrink knew he was thinking of himself having the powers a comic book character based on himself had, she would lock him in a padded room somewhere.

“So Brian, tell me why you want to donate one of your kidneys to your nephew,” she said once they were settled into her office.

Brian looked her straight the eye. “I don’t.”

“You don’t?” she repeated, sounding slightly surprised. She probably had never had someone admit it to her so openly before, Brian thought.

“No, I don’t. I’m here because my sister asked me to consider it. So I did.”

“And you didn’t want to tell your sister to her face when she asked that you didn’t want to give up one of your kidneys to her son?”

Brian shrugged. “Something like that.” Maybe it wasn’t really like that at all. Brian wasn’t sure.

“Well, that’s all you needed to tell me, Brian, so thank you for being forthright with me. We can take care of notifying your nephew and your sister that you were not qualified to be a donor for John. They will not be told why. Everything you told Dr. Lovel and myself today is strictly confidential.”

Brian nodded and sighed, relaxing back into the chair. It was as easy as that.

“Now you’re certainly under no obligation to tell me, Brian, but may I ask why you don’t want to donate a kidney to your nephew? Is it because of the actual procedure? The testing, the surgery, the risks involved?”

“My partner expressed to me that he didn’t want me to do it,” Brian honestly replied.

“Of course. That’s understandable. And I’m sure his opinion matters greatly to you.”

“It’s the only one that does,” Brian told her.

She smiled gently. “I somehow doubt that, Brian. Or why would you be here? Was your partner’s concern over your health the only reason you don’t want to donate? It is certainly a valid enough concern. But is there any other reason?”

“Like what?” Brian scoffed, suddenly fed up with this whole thing. “Like the fact that when he was 12 years old he falsely accused me of molesting him and tried to have me arrested and sent to prison? And my sister and mother believed him?”

Dr. Rowley raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips together as she nodded to herself. “So your history with your nephew is not the best,” she carefully stated.

Brian snorted. “He’s a twisted, fag hating liar.”

“He was when he was 12 years old. But have you seen him or talked to him since, Brian? I want to make clear, I am not trying to change your mind about the transplant. You’ve expressed that you do not want to donate and I have already recorded that in the file. It can’t be changed now. I just have to say, I’ve had the opportunity to talk to John a great deal over the last couple of years and he seems like a very nice young man. Six years is a long time, especially for someone so young. And he’s been through a significant life experience with his illness. Perhaps if you talked to him it might help to mend the rift between you two, at least in part. Maybe give you both peace with what happened in the past.”

Brian swallowed against the disgust and anger rising in this throat. Mending rifts, giving peace. This was why he’d never seen a shrink. What a bunch of bullshit.

“Thanks for your time, doc,” he smirked, rose from his chair, and walked out the door.

 

  
************   


 

Brian really shouldn’t have been surprised when Cynthia buzzed him later that afternoon to let him know Claire was there to see him again. He wanted to send her away but figured it was probably better to just get it over with. “Send her in,” he sighed before releasing the intercom button on the phone.

Claire walked in and came over to his desk just as she had the day before, but this time she immediately took a seat and Brian set aside his work to give her his full attention.

“Dr. Lovel called us today. He said you met with him this morning but that you’re not a suitable donor candidate. I can’t say I’m surprised, considering you had cancer. But I was a little surprised that you even met with him. So I wanted to come by and say thank you. For doing that for John.”

Brian stared her. “I didn’t do it for John. And I didn’t do it for you. I did it so now it’s over. You asked and you got your answer. End of story.”

Claire’s bit her lip. “I am sorry, Brian. For what John said and for believing him. And for asking you to do this when I had absolutely no right to expect it from you. But he’s my son. I know you can’t really understand what that means. But I would do anything for him. Anything to help him now. So I had to ask. And as for back then… all I can say is that I’m his mother. And when he told me that someone had hurt him, all I wanted to do was protect him. It honestly never entered my mind that he would lie about something like that.”

Brian could see the truth of what she was saying in her eyes. He nodded.

Claire slumped in her chair. “I’m so sorry, Brian. I’m so relieved you understand – ”

“I understand? What exactly am I supposed to understand? You think just because you’re his mother and you come and say you’re sorry that everything is all right? Forgiven and forgotten? You are not absolved, Claire. Neither of you. I accept that you’re sorry. But you know what, Claire? Sorry’s bullshit. Now you can run along and feel better about yourself since you said what you wanted to say. But this is not absolution, Claire. This is me being busy and done with your shit. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have lot to do today. I wasn’t in the office this morning.”

Claire sat stunned for a moment at his outburst. Finally she nodded, quite obviously blinking back tears as she rose. “If you can’t forgive me, I understand, Brian. I’m your sister and I’ve known you all your life. I should have handled it differently. But John was just a kid. And he’s wondering now, if you won’t help him because of what he did. You know, I got him counseling after that. And I think it helped. He’s a good boy, Brian. Could you at least talk to him once? He has dialysis at the center at UPMC this evening from 4 to 8. I have to work and Peter has soccer practice. He could use someone to keep him company.”

 

  
************   


 

“You hate me, don’t you?” John asked, once Brian had taken a seat next to the recliner John was in while his blood was circulated through the dialysis machine to his left and cleansed of the toxins that built up in his body between treatments. Brian had almost turned around three times on the drive over to the medical center but in the end, here he was.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I probably don’t even know you.”

John nodded. “I suppose that’s true.”

They sat in awkward silence for a moment before John sighed.

“I am sorry, you know. For what I said when I was a kid. I don’t think I really understood how much trouble you could have gotten in. I was just pissed at you for dunking my head in the toilet. And I was pissed at my mom for leaving me with you that day to take care of Peter. And I was pissed at my dad for leaving us. I guess mostly I was just a really angry kid and I wanted to take it out on someone.”

Brian laughed mirthlessly. “Your mother said she’d sent you to therapy.”

“Is the reason you won’t help me now because of what I did back then?” John asked.

Direct and to the point. Brian could at least appreciate that much.

“Partly. It’s also partly that my partner doesn’t want me to take the risk, especially for someone I’m not close to. And partly because I was sick a few years ago myself and even though the doctors say I’m okay now, I’m not 100% certain that I’ll always stay okay. And partly because I’d rather not have another surgery if I don’t need to. There are a lot of reasons why. But yes, what you tried to do back then is one of them.”

John nodded. “Thanks for being honest.”

“So how long do you have to be hooked up to this thing?” Brian asked him, gesturing to the machine by his side.

“Four hours a day, three times a week. It pretty much sucks. I’m the youngest person here by like a century too. I try to do my homework sometimes but it’s hard to concentrate in here. Peter’s always busy with soccer and Mom’s always working so it gets pretty boring. It’d be a lot better if I could do it at home, but the insurance would only cover half the cost of a home dialysis unit and Mom can’t afford to cover the rest.”

Brian nodded. They both turned their attention to the television after the silence started to stretch uncomfortably between them again. Some inane sitcom that Brian had never heard of but that made John laugh a few times. When the show ended, Brian stood up.

“This place does suck,” he agreed.

“Yeah,” John sighed.

“I’ll talk to you mom and see what we can do about getting you a home dialysis unit. No promises though.”

“Really, Uncle Brian? Thanks!” John’s face lit up.

Brian rolled his eyes. _All of a sudden, we’re related._

 

  
************   


 

“Where have you been?” Justin asked when Brian walked into the kitchen a little after 8:00. Brian wasn’t technically later than usual, but he’d called Kinnetik three hours ago to tell Brian to not bother bringing home dinner since Justin had felt like cooking and Cynthia had told him Brian had already left for the day.

Brian shrugged out of his suit coat and hung it on the back of one of the stools at the island. “I went to see John.”

“You did?” Justin asked, surprised. He’d figured Brian had probably gone to confide in Michael about the Kinney family’s newest attempt to screw Brian over.

“Yeah, I did,” Brian replied, his tone making it clear that no further discussion of the subject would be forthcoming at the moment.

Justin sighed, but turned back to serving up dinner. He’d tried this chicken thing his mom used to make and he hoped it’d turned out all right. He sniffed his plate. Smelled right. Shrugging, he placed the other plate in his hands in front of Brian at the island and took a seat next to him.

They ate in silence for the most part though Brian did manage to mention the food was “not bad.” When the kitchen was cleaned up, Brian wrapped his arms around Justin’s waist and pulled him close. Softly kissing the side of his head he murmured, “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Already? This is the second night in a row that you’ll be in bed before 10. Don’t tell me you’re getting old,” Justin teased lightly.

“Come with me?” Brian asked softly, completely ignoring the jab about his age and making Justin wary. But he agreed, having a feeling he knew what was coming. On the rare occasions that Brian actually wanted to talk about what was bothering him, it almost always happened when they were in bed, getting ready to go to sleep. Something about the darkness and quiet comfort of the proximity of their bodies made him feel just sometimes like it was safe to let Justin in.

Once they had taken care of their nightly routines, stripped down, and crawled into bed, Justin reached over and shut off the lights. And waited.

Ten minutes passed and he was about to give up and roll over to find a more comfortable position in which to sleep when Brian finally spoke.

“I went to the hospital this morning. Spoke to a couple people on the transplant team.”

“Oh?” Justin asked, his heart starting to beat faster in his chest.

“Yeah. Turns out they may be desperate enough for kidneys that they’d consider taking one from a formerly diseased fag after all.”

“Brian,” Justin said softly, scooting closer to the center of the bed but not reaching over to touch him. Sometimes that was too much for Brian, especially if he was already feeling vulnerable.

“But when it came down to talking to their shrink and answering why I wanted to give John my kidney, I told her the truth. I didn’t want to. And it was as easy as that.”

Somehow Justin doubted that. But he couldn’t stop himself from saying “I’m glad you decided not to do it.”

“Yeah. Well Claire came to my office again after they told her I wasn’t a suitable donor. They didn’t tell her why but I think she knew. You know she actually fucking apologized? Six years later and all she could think of was to say she was sorry. Like that made up for it. And she actually thought I’d just forgive her. And him.”

“You don’t have to forgive them, Brian,” Justin said quietly. “Just because someone says they’re sorry, doesn’t mean you’re required to forgive them.”

“Don’t you think I know that. Sorry’s – ”

“Bullshit, I know,” he finished for him. “So why did you go see John?”

Brian didn’t answer but Justin could feel him shrug next to him.

“What did he have to say?”

“He wanted to tell me how he was angry at his parents, angry at me, angry at the world and that’s why he did what he did. You can tell Claire sent him to therapy.”

“Anything else?”

“That he was sorry too,” Brian snorted. Then he continued more quietly. “And he asked if I wouldn’t help him now because of what he did when he was 12.”

“What did you tell him?” Justin asked. He ached to pull Brian close and hold him, but not yet. He had more he needed to say.

“That it was partly the reason. I wasn’t going to lie to him to make him feel better.” Brian cleared his throat then and Justin’s heart constricted at the sound.

“You shouldn’t have to,” he assured him quietly.

“I know,” Brian told him, the words sounding slightly choked as he rolled onto his side away from Justin. Justin could just make out the outline of Brian’s body as he curled in on himself slightly as the tears began.

“It’s okay to be hurt by what they did to you, Brian,” Justin said softly, placing a gentle hand on his bare back. “They’ve treated you terribly. And they have no idea about you. Not the first idea of who you are. The kind of person you are.”

“I offered to help pay for John to have a home dialysis machine,” Brian whispered.

“That was nice of you,” Justin murmured. “You are a good man, Brian Kinney. You are kind and you care about your friends. And you love your true family. And we love you.”

Brian sniffed and reached for Justin’s hand that was on his back, bringing his arm to wrap around his waist. Pressing up against his back, Justin placed soft kisses on Brian’s neck, offering the only comfort that he could while Brian cried.

“ _I_ love you, Brian.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _Please understand that the information about living kidney donation that I put into this article comes only from a few hours of perusing the internet myself and was used in such a way to further this story in the way I wanted to tell it. Justin’s reactions to the facts on the website he and Brian read were in no way meant to cast a negative light on living organ and tissue donation. I think these are wonderful, life-saving gifts that the right people can give to their loved ones under the right circumstances. That was simply not the case here. Brian was probably not suited to be a donor physically and certainly wasn’t prepared emotionally to be one for his nephew for understandable reasons._


End file.
